Minute
by AmandaMD
Summary: The dull throbbing pain that persisted on his mangled thigh seemed to intensify as each minute passed. And each minute meant another minute lost for their patient. Another minute of pain. Another minute of suffering. House/Cameron One-shot. R


It was just another of those days for the head of the Department of Diagnostic Medicine. The dull throbbing pain that persisted on his mangled thigh seemed to intensify as each minute passed. And each minute meant another minute lost for their patient. Another minute of pain. Another minute of suffering. He knew just how their patient felt.

For years he has dealt with his pain, it had become customary in his every day life. He had things to dull the pain: Scotch, Vicodin, the occasional woman in his apartment offering him a minute of ecstasy. _A minute of bliss_, he thought as he reclined softly on his computer chair to stare out his window at the gloomy weather that reflected his thoughts. How he wish he could trade in each day of his painful life for just on more minute of rapture.

Instead all he had was his trusty white pill that was situated in-between his left index finger and thumb that offered some sort of comfort. As he brought that pill up to his mouth, he let his lips slowly part to allow entrance to one of his last few pleasures in life. Placing it delicately on his tongue he closed his mouth as slowly as he had opened it and swallowed the pill dry. He could feel his faithful companion falling gently down his throat. _Just one more minute_, he thought, _and the pain will be gone._

He counted down the seconds until his miracle worker kicked in, but that only made the time go slower. His eyes slowly transfixed on the raindrops that made a fast yet melancholy melody against the windowpane of his dark and secluded office. He blinked once and let out a breath he didn't know he was holding. He could feel the pain gradually fade away and he knew that his thoughts would soon return to those of the puzzle that lay before him.

It certainly wasn't as interesting a case as usual, but then again, he would not take a case if he didn't believe it had potential. At first none of his fellows seemed to perceive what had made him want to admit the patient. Male, late 30s. He came into the clinic suffering from discomfort in his abdomen and diarrhea. He noticed that the patient looked rather pale, rather skinny. He knew something was anomalous, and he had to figure out what it was.

His fellows were quick to assume it was merely a case of gastroenteritis. But he knew they were being close-minded. Dr. Cuddy accused him of just using the patient as a distraction from his life. This accusation was partially true.

He let out a groan and let his head rest in his hands as he ran the list of symptoms in his head. Pain in abdomen, diarrhea, weight loss. Such common symptoms. It wasn't so much that he was stumped by the case, he was just impatient.

_What is taking those worthless peons so long to get a freaking stool sample_, he grumbled in his mind.

Their recent theory was Ascaris worms. It was possible, but the weight loss wasn't really explained by it. He decided to just let them test for it. They had made a valid argument that the weight loss wasn't really a symptom, just a product of stress from his job. He didn't buy that argument, but he was in too much pain to scold them.

So there he sat, enveloped in his thoughts, alone. An onlooker could describe the scene as depressing, he just thought of it as ordinary.

Suddenly, he felt something, rather someone, disturb his nest. He heard the barely audible sound of sneakers walking carefully across his office floor. The presence was behind him now. They were saying something, but he was too focused on the sound of them breathing to hear.

"House."

He blinked once and escaped from the trance he put himself in.

"House," the voice persisted.

Nothing. He didn't stir in his seat, didn't breathe, just stayed still. He was hoping, wishing, that they would leave him be. But of course, life never worked out in his favor.

"Hou-," the voice started again before the loud sound of his voice interrupted.

"WHAT?!"

Silence. He could've sworn he heard the faint sound of a chuckle emanating from behind him.

He quickly spun around in his chair to face his intruder. Allison Cameron.

Now Allison Cameron was definitely different from all the women he hadpined over. He liked them strong, independent, and distant. She did not exactly fit those qualifications. She was easy on the eyes; he had to admit to himself. But he did not, could not, see a future with someone as overly caring as her. _It'd be like dating Wilson_. He shuddered at that thought.

Ever since she quit his department, he could sense something different about her though. An atmosphere of confidence surrounded her. She was definitely more assertive. More desirable. She had been the star of this reoccurring, vivid, provocative dream. He tasted her lips, her body, and her angel-like skin. Brought her to ecstasy, and she returned the favor. He remembered entwining his fingers in her dangerous locks of hair. The feeling of her teeth scraping across his abdomen. He suddenly felt a twitch in his groin at that thought.

Shaking his mind of his thoughts, he stared into her eyes. Challenging her to say something. Explain why she had intruded his space.

"Well…" he stated rudely, "are you just going to stand there, or do you have something to say?" She blinked. He noticed. She had obviously been deep in thought as well.

She let out an audible sigh and made way quickly around his office. She opened his blinds, turned on his lights, and brought him back to the realities of his surroundings.

"House, you've been in here for 2 hours. Your poor fellows didn't want to interrupt your "thought process" so they came to me asking for help. I can't have them constantly interrupting me when I'm working House. I thought I was finally out of this loop. This twisted game you play with patient health-care. Just take a minute out of your day and tell your fellows that I can't constantly be offering advice on how to deal with you!" she scolded.

He said nothing. Just a minute out of his day. A minute had proved to be a long time.

"House? Are you listening to me?!"

He was in fact _not_ listening to her. Just merely staring at her. This new Cameron stirred his senses. Made him imagine scenarios. Dirty ones, too. Could you blame him? Here was this beautiful woman, in his office, yelling at him. He liked it. A lot. Once again, his mind was betraying him. Confusing him. He can't be thinking these thoughts. These forbidden thoughts. He and Cameron were never, ever meant to be.

He shook his head theatrically, as if he were snapping out of a reverie.

"Oh, I'm sorry. Were you saying something?"

House could've sworn he heard a bomb explode in her brain. He saw the mushroom clouds in her eyes, the smoke escaping her ears. She let out one last groan before she turned on her heel, and out of his office. And out of his thoughts. At least until his eyes closed tonight, and he let his dreams tell him what he truly wanted. What he truly needed. _Maybe she'd take away some of this pain_, he thought, _at least for a minute._


End file.
